


The Prettiest Doll In Paris

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bruises, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Orders, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Had a request for Montparnasse/Claquesous with some size kink involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prettiest Doll In Paris

Montparnasse was slow as he lowered himself down, as slow as he could manage to move with his thighs quivering and aching with the effort of the movement, and God,  _God_ , Claquesous was so  _thick_ , and Montparnasse wasn’t merely being careful out of choice - later, he would willingly and readily request that Claquesous slam into him with all the force he could muster, but for now, he needed to take care.

Claquesous was looking up at him, his grin a lazy thing curving where the mask stopped at his nose, and he was so  _unruffled_ , damn him, enough so that Montparnasse wanted to scratch and bite at his chest for his gall in being no distinctly not flustered. 

Montparnasse let out a low hiss of sound when Claquesous shifted slightly, the motion bringing him down an inch or so. “God.” He murmured to himself, and then went the rest of the way in a singular, smooth motion, letting out a strangled little mewl of noise when he felt himself bottom out.

”As pretty as a doll.” Claquesous commented, stroking up Montparnasse’s thigh and scratching playfully over the marble skin. 

"Your doll." Montparnasse choked out the words, clenching deliberately around the other man and feeling how  _full_  he felt, felt the stretch, felt the ache in his muscles.

“ _My_  doll.” Claquesous purred, his voice barely a rasp of noise, and Montparnasse took in a greedy gasp for air as he looked down at the other man. “Are you going to be a toy for me, Montparnasse?”

"Are you a young girl that plays with dolls?" Claquesous took Montparnasse’s balls in hands and held them tightly - not squeezing, not yet, but the promise was there, and the younger man let out a loud whine of sound, his eyes wide.

"What was that?"

"Fuck me." Montparnasse begged, rolling his hips down and clenching as tightly as he could manage around Claquesous, and the other man dropped his hold, his smirk impossibly smug. 

"Raise yourself up." Montparnasse did, and he loved this, he loved this part, he loved it when Claquesous ordered him about, treated him like a toy - no, a  _pet_ _. “_ Down.” Montparnasse began to slowly bring himself down, but Claquesous grasped at his thighs and stopped him short. “Oh, no, no. Back up.”

Montparnasse raised himself up obediently, but he  _shook_ , not merely for the effort of the movement, but for the way Claquesous was looking up at him, amused, smug, possessive.  _Dominant_. “Now,  _down_. One movement, fast.”

Montparnasse dropped, and he let out a strangled noise for taking all of the other man at once. “Please, please, Claquesous, please just take me, take me,  _take_  me-“ 

"Come here." Montparnasse leaned and Claquesous took advantage of the way he bared his throat, nipping and biting at the slender curve there and suckling obvious, overt marks that would purple come the morning time and would have to be hidden with an artfully tied cravat. "You are a slut."

"Yes."

"A harlot."

"Yes." Montparnasse was rolling his hips down greedily as he let out little noises, desperate,  _keening_  little noises, for Claquesous’ teeth were harsh on his skin and his hands - and dear God above, Claquesous’ hands were so  _big_  - were grabbing possessively at the meat of Montparnasse’s thighs and marking them with bruises and crescent marks from his nails.

"You are a flower of the night, a beauty,  _my_  beauty, pretty as a doll and made for my pleasure.”

“ _Please_.” Montparnasse begged, and Claquesous laughed. Then, he was flipping them and Montparnasse was on his back, pinned under the other man’s weight as Claquesous set about snapping his hips forwards, thrusting deep within the younger man and making Montparnasse cry out. His hands moved desperately, grasping at Claquesous’ hips and his shoulders and finally settling to splay across his back as he tried to pull the other man in closer.

“ _Please_ , he says.” Claquesous growled in the other man’s ear. “Please, and thank you, and yes, sir, and no, sir, because he’s a sweet little toy who wants to be fucked and played with and claimed.” Montparnasse let out a keen of noise as Claquesous dug his nails into Montparnasse’s narrow hips, marking them. 

"Yours." was all Montparnasse could manage to respond, his silver tongue turned to molten liquid for the time being. "Yours, yours, yours-" 

He came before Claquesous did, cock spattering between them, but Claquesous did not so much as pause, if anything moving faster, deeper, thrusting his hips harder than he had before and making Montparnasse sob for how sensitive he was. When Claquesous did come, he pulled back, spreading Montparnasse’s thighs apart and peering between his pretty legs.

Montparnasse’s cheeks went vermilion for Claquesous’ inquisitive gaze, and he had to suppress the urge to wriggle. “Look at  _this_.” Claquesous purred, and behind the mask Montparnasse could see his eyes, wide and amused as he played over Montparnasse’s open rim with his thumbs. Montparnasse let out a soft whimper as the older man spread him open. “Do you know how  _wet_  you are, Montparnasse? So wet, so open - I’ve left you spread wide.” Montparnasse’s cheeks  _burned_ , and he nodded, his mouth dry, his cock pulsing as if dreaming of becoming hard again even though he needed much more time to recover.

"Hold me." He whispered, the request plaintive, and Claquesous chuckled, moving up to comply and offer the vouchsafe freely enough. 

"Mon petit-maître." Claquesous murmured in Montparnasse’s ear before he nipped at the skin, and the younger man flushed. 

"Moi, un maître?"

"Un  _petit_ -maître.” Claquesous corrected firmly, and then he mouthed over the back of Montparnasse’s neck, arms around Montparnasse’s chest. “Do you need sleep?”

"I could go without."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"Please." Montparnasse pressed closer at Claquesous’ hum of allowance, pressing his pale cheek to the other’s skin in order to feel his warmth and enjoy the regular rhythm of his pulse. His eyes dropped closed, and he relaxed entirely, moulding himself to Claquesous’ body.

Claquesous grinned down at him, pleased, and allowed Montparnasse to slumber.


End file.
